I call bullsh*t.

This journal is a place for me to vent and write about my early onset midlife crisis.  What does that have to do with the subject of this post?  Because I have now officially turned into a crusty, old foggie complaining about the idiocracy of today’s youth.



There are three reasons that this article and the related blog post captured my full-on attention.

First, I follow NME for music news.  I am an Anglophile.  I love English history, culture, literature, comedy, and films.  I took English history classes as my upper level electives in college which is remarkable considering I typically detest social studies.  I prefer BBC news to typical American outlets.  The Queen and The King’s Speech were exquisite.  I prefer NME and Mojo over Rolling Stone.  I absolutely <3  <3  <3 Ricky Gervais, Simon Pegg, and Graham Norton.  I grew up listening to English classic rock, and British punk is the music of my soul.  And I absolutely fell in love with Ed Sheeran, ginger hair and all, during his performance on CBS’s special commemorating the 50th anniversary of The Beatles appearance on the Ed Sullivan show.

Second, I love lists.  I am a list maker extraordinaire; their order and organized structure appeal to me.  And I exponentially love lists about other lists.  This journal entry will primarily focus on the NME blog post which is a list summarizing the list in the main article.

Third, I am argumentative by nature, especially about subjects that I have no real knowledge of and can claim no expertise about, like for instance music.  In my case, I have not faithfully followed the goings on in the popular music scene since around the turn of the century, this being about the time I succumbed to the zombiesque state that was induced by corporate America.  I know these lists are arbitrary and unanimous consensus is impossible.  But NME’s list has rubbed me the wrong way, and I’m seeing lots of internet chatter that supports me in my abhorrence of this particular list.  Opinions are like a**holes, so eff you if you don’t think mine is worthwhile.

Below are a just a few of the reasons that I think the obviously late twenty-somethings that have not yet moved up to management positions at NME have lost their mother freaking minds.  I assume they are late twenty somethings because how else could half of the list of the 500 best songs of all time be from 1990 and later?

I don’t want to go too far down the rabbit hole concerning individual song rankings, but does Britney Spears deserve to be in the top 100?  The La’s in the Top 25?  Outkast in the top 10?  While these are not even close to the only ones that I take issue with, I think they demonstrate how the credibility of this list is completely blown.

The #2 song of all time is by Joy Division.  I effing hate Joy Division.  I am absolutely enamored with all of their contemporaries, other new-wave, post punk bands from the same era as this is the music of my adolescence.  Sirius XM 33 First Wave is my channel of choice.  And I love New Order.  Love them!  But for some reason, I absolutely detest Joy Division.  I’m a walking contradiction.

Blur and Oasis have the most songs on the list after The Beatles and David Bowie?  What?  Really?!?  Is this a British cultural thing that I can’t comprehend?  Love-love-love Damon Albarn’s The Good, The Bad and The Queen though.  I’d like to state here for the record that I don’t “get” Coldplay either.   

135 of 500, that’s almost 30%, of the songs on this list are from the 1990s.  Are you effing kidding me?

And 1994 takes the top spot for year with the most singles, 28 total.  This was my prime, my freshman year in college, and I don’t remember it as being all that.  Was this when Blur and Oasis were big?

The 60s and 70s, decades during which rock and roll was taken from its infancy in the 50s and innovated and elevated it into true art, each have fewer songs on this list than the 2010s, a decade that is less than halfway over?  Because autotune and overproduction are awesome, man.

I can’t take it anymore.  I’m SO over this list.

[Jane scowls, raises and shakes fist.] You dumb kids get off my lawn!

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